All Who Are Mortal
by gin and ironic
Summary: What if ObiWan was the padawan and Anakin the master? AU, WiP.
1. Prologue

All Who Are Mortal  
By Gin

Prologue

_Coruscant, 27 BBY_

The boy could not have been more than nine standard years old. His manner was still and solemn, his clothing and stature nearly impossible to guess when hidden beneath the overlarge brown traveling cloak he had draped about himself like armor.

From his chair, Yoda surveyed the child: he stood alone in the middle of the circular Council room, hardly even blinking. Master Windu was directly at Yoda's right and naturally expressed nothing but his usual breed of serious concentration while he studied the boy. The Council was nearly empty of actual inhabitants; flickering blue holographic likenesses made up the lack. Many Jedi were sent to outlying systems in an effort to calm the already broiling waters of diplomacy, such as Masters Giett and Gallia, who hardly had moments to spare for the meeting. Yoda's silence was out of place given the state of things, but also necessary, as everyone could sense.

Finally, Yoda spoke. "Train him, we cannot. He is too old."

"I concur," Master Windu said, leaning forward so he might better hear any other thoughts on the matter. "We do not have the resources to take on another youngling."

Though the conversation must not have made much sense to the human boy, who until recently only knew of the Jedi as some abstract and mythical notion, he did not appear confused or affected. Yoda continued to watch him as the Council debated.

"More Jedi we will need, should things continue on their present course," Yaddle offered, sitting serenely in her chair much the same way as Yoda.

"He is almost of age to be taken as a padawan. It is impossible to expect the child to learn all he needs to know before then."

"Difficult it would be, not impossible." Yaddle's face might have held something of a smile. "Strong, the Force is. The boy is patient, willing."

"The Jedi are stretched too thin, as Master Windu stated. Unless someone is volunteering to teach the child themself?" Tiin was obviously not including himself in the statement. Years of service in the order proved him to be a better fighter than teacher, and he'd not so much as taken on one padawan learner.

There was various conversation on the topic. Who could spare the time to tutor the child? He would be leagues behind those in his age group and mentally leagues ahead of the younglings just beginning to train in the temple, and yet the idea of privately instructing him was out of the question. Throughout this dialog, Yoda was silent, simply listening and mediating. There was no doubt that the child was strong with the Force, and he was intelligent, calm; nothing of childish enthusiasm or awe filled him, Yoda could sense. Only patience and acceptance. Even at such a young age, he fit the model of a Jedi and would uphold the Jedi Code to an astonishing degree if given the chance.

And there was the issue of the prophecy, which Yoda was certain Yaddle was going to broach. Exceptions had been made before on the basis of fate, after all.

"A decision we must make." All heads turned to Yoda, who gestured to the youngling with his walking staff. "A Jedi should the boy be?" The question was not 'should we train him,' but 'should he be a Jedi?'

The Council weighed this issue carefully before starting to speak. There were a few scattered and reluctant "aye"s. In the end, no one could deny the strong sensation of the Force emanating from the child, who still had not said a word. Windu was the last to give a vote, which was a clear and grave "no." Yoda abstained, only nodding when the response was certain.

"Then a Jedi young Kenobi will be."


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

The Jedi Order is struggling to keep peace in an increasingly hostile Republic. Rumors that the Sith have returned are widespread, the Senate is rife with corruption, and Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum is nothing but a figurehead.

Meanwhile, a Jedi Knight named Anakin Skywalker may or may not be the subject of a prophecy pointing towards the destruction of the Sith. His former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, was instructed to teach him the ways of the Force with utmost diligence, and he appears to have succeeded. However, another boy of puzzling origin has been found. Like Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi started his Jedi training late in childhood. Now both must face the challenges of their prospective destinies…

_Coruscant, 20 BBY_

Through the haze of adrenalin and the whirring of lightsabers, Obi-Wan Kenobi could barely make out the sounds of his master's walking stick hitting the floor. "Focus, focus! Concentrate. Use the Force!"

Obi-Wan tried to keep his kicks straight, but every muscle in his thigh was straining painfully. Four consecutive hours of Ataru could do that to a person. He took a breath to center himself and felt out for the Force, drawing it in for clarity and stamina. He carefully distanced himself from any shades of desperation or exhaustion; they would not relieve him, they were not of use to Jedi. The room snapped into sharper focus until he could hear the sound of Master Yoda's stick hitting the floor long instants before regular humans would have registered the contact.

It felt not a little bizarre to fight _air_, brandishing your saber in a series of complex attack-only sequences at a nonexistent enemy, but after seven years of such practice, Obi-Wan was accustomed to it. There was more freedom of method in this, rather than following the carefully erratic motions of a droid. Nothing was as taxing or didactic as mock-fighting a fellow padawan, but too much of one thing led to habit, inflexibility. A Jedi needed surprise on his side.

After all, Obi-Wan Kenobi is nothing if not a Jedi.

An apprentice; a padawan, yes, but he lives and breathes the Jedi Code—through it, the Force. He has no significant past and no Unifying abilities to speak of, but he knows this is just an epoch before he is made a Jedi Knight. If he is not the Chosen One (as Obi-Wan has long privately suspected), he will do his duty regardless. It is his lot in life, his desire to be one with the Force, to be noble and selfless. He would gladly leave the Sith-slaying to Anakin Skywalker.

Newly-made Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, the other rumored center of the prophecy. Obi-Wan has heard more of the man than he has seen of him, but that is always the case. The prophecy isn't well known, but Skywalker does not need divination to secure admiration; the HoloNet did that.

At only twenty-one, he is something of a legend to the padawans, and to most of the Republic as well. He is cunning, bold, powerful, and his oft-mentioned impulsiveness has been tempered by frequent loss and Qui-Gon Jinn's sympathetic teachings. Even Senator Palpatine, a politician, has been known to comment on Skywalker's prowess. Responsible for the identification of (and subsequent near-capture, although Skywalker seems to find that more of a huge failure than an almost-win) fallen Jedi Count Dooku as being behind feuds involving the Trade Federation, Skywalker is now recuperating at the Jedi temple on Coruscant. There is talk that he may soon be one of the youngest Masters in Jedi history. But he hasn't so much as taken on a padawan yet, so likely it is just talk.

Though this may change.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is well aware of his lack of gifts regarding the future. He continues to collect himself and use the Force as his constant ally during lightsaber practice, oblivious to the storm his master Yoda senses brewing.

Changes _will_ be made. Soon.

---

Thank you toTrey and Catrina for the beta and various encouragement. As I stated in the summary, this fic is totally AU. Seriously. Don't get angry with me over dates or similar stuff; I'm doing this on purpose, and actually if you cross-check the info, I did a meticulous job of fitting everything where I wanted it to go. And for the record, this will eventually be slash, but I'm not going to spoil the pairing just yet.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

It was a rare day when Qui-Gon Jinn finds time or reason to visit the Jedi temple on Coruscant. Yoda even halted a Form I training session midway through to meet with the man; he and Mace Windu wait for Qui-Gon as he stepped out of his landing ship. Striding with his usual level of nonchalance towards the mismatched pair, his traveling robes and cloak fluttered in the cool mid-morning breeze.

"Master Yoda," Qui-Gon addressed him, voice soft and low. Yoda bowed his head slightly in greeting. "Master Windu."

"I trust your visit to Metellos was uneventful?" Mace asked.

"Extremely. It is… good to be back."

The trio began the walk back to the temple itself, pace slow to keep up with Yoda, who lumbered with his cane. "Unfortunate," Yoda began, "are the circumstances surrounding your return. Weighs heavily on him, his capture does."

"You don't miss a trick, do you?" Qui-Gon smiled, but underneath it were traces of weariness and anxiety; it was _his_ suggestion that sent Anakin to Bandomeer after Xanatos, and now it was similarly his fault Anakin was still recovering from the beatings and exhaustion of working in the mines. Truth be told, Anakin's smarting ego was the worst of it. Still, the seriousness of the situation couldn't be ignored. The Jedi Order was fortunate Anakin was the one sent to Bandomeer; his skill as a Knight was unequaled, especially for a human. Had another Knight been sent to the planet it was doubtful they would have returned alive.

"Whatever the reason, it is good to have you back among us," Mace said.

Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully. "May I see him?" he asked, priorities obvious.

"Yes. But linger, do not. Many things have we to discuss."

---

Anakin, still pained and weary, could scarcely get around. He pushed himself up to his elbows and kicked the covers of his bedding aside when Qui-Gon entered his chambers. It was evident that much movement taxed him; he gasped around a bruised rib and struggled to get comfortable, hair already matted with sweat.

"Qui-Gon. I thought I felt your presence. You should have told me you were coming; I would have dressed up." He grinned, sarcastic to the last, and gestured his former master closer.

"Anakin. Passive as always, I'm glad to see." He drew a chair over from a small table and sat, making sure Anakin would have to take no pains to see him. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful, but I'll live."

"I'm sure you will."

There was a lull in conversation as both men regarded each other. Anakin tried to move up his pillows but pain spiked through his side, making him hiss and fall back against the mattress. Immediately Qui-Gon moved forward and helped him shift position.

"Concentrate," he instructed calmly, although if Anakin were in more of a frame of mind to pay attention, he would have noticed the lines of worry creasing Qui-Gon's brow. "If you concentrate on the Force, the pain is lessened."

"Oh, it—sounds _simplistic_," Anakin panted, leaning on his friend's arm for support. Once they managed to prop him up in a pose that didn't seem to overly aggravate his ribs and back, Qui-Gon took his seat again. "I've been in bed for _days_, I'm going out of my head. You're the only—stimulating company I've had so far."

"What about the pain?" Qui-Gon asked, so used to ignoring Anakin's grumblings by this point he hardly even heard them. "Haven't the droids given you—"

"I started refusing them last night; they made it difficult to focus."

"That's rather the point, I think."

"I can't afford to—"

"_Yes_, you can. You're safe here."

Anakin might have scowled at him; it was too dark in the room to tell, even at such close range. He hated being questioned or told off, and usually it was one of his normal idiosyncrasies, except it made it difficult to discuss things. But not often.

"Why are you here, anyway?" he asked dourly, not quite ungrateful but definitely deflated.

"I sensed I needed to be."

Anakin eyed him. "Really."

"And, of course, I was worried about you."

"You needn't have bothered. I'm fine. Or at least I will be."

"And I'm glad to hear of it," Qui-Gon sighed, sensing Anakin's tenacious bad humor wasn't going to go away with idle conversation. "You should be asleep."

"I'm perfectly—"

"You should _sleep_. I must speak with Yoda, but I will be back."

"Why—"

"Still asking too many questions, I see." Qui-Gon smiled fondly and stood from the chair. "Rest."

---

I was going to wait until chapter three was written to accompany this, as the chapter is short and not at all satisfying (to me personally). However, I'll be gone for three or four days and probably without net access, so letting this sit isn't on my agenda.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"I left Anakin to rest," Qui-Gon informed Yoda and Mace, divesting himself of his long travel robe. He shook it out and handed it droid waiting outside the Council chambers. "He is in poor shape, and I hope to spend as much time as possible with him during my stay on Coruscant."

Though his tone is always polite and unassuming, Qui-Gon still had a manner that hinted he would get his way no matter the circumstances. Even the Jedi were not impervious to it; being something of a rebel in the Order, Qui-Gon elicited a mixture of fondness and resigned assent from the Masters. He had his own path with the Force, and insofar as it did not contradict the Code, he was permitted to follow it at will.

He proved to be the best choice in teaching Anakin Skywalker during his Padawan Learner years. Anakin found his behavior amusing and did not live in dread of being reprimanded for many of his own unpredictable flaws. He was allowed more leeway than perhaps all other Jedi in the history of the Order, and yet—as Qui-Gon taught—with such privilege came accountability and honor. The occasional bout of willfulness may have been allowed, failure tolerated and trial by error the common mode, but ignorance and superciliousness were not. Anakin was forbidden to take himself seriously. He knew his place and talent or no, prophecy or no, he would not overstep it.

Qui-Gon ultimately guided him into a soundly principled man, a veracious Jedi. His values could be seen in the way he walked, in the pace of his speech, and even in his admitted sporadic fits of temper. Without all of this, it seemed he would not be whole.

They were a remarkable pair.

Yoda felt some reservation at splitting them up when Anakin passed his trials and became a Jedi Knight, but he knew it was necessary for Anakin to further find his identity alone. Anakin and Qui-Gon were now equals, and Yoda was certain keeping the two together would only prolong their set roles as teacher and padawan. Such an unequal dynamic could only aggravate Anakin's sensibilities and possibly drive a wedge between the two. Resentment was frowned upon. Indeed, emotions were against the Code, but Yoda had lived long enough to know when some battles could not be won against stubborn humans.

It was because of this knowledge that Yoda allowed such flagrantly _human_ conduct from Qui-Gon. His presence was requested for a meeting and yet his mind was with Skywalker. Typical.

The doors opened upon a wave of Yoda's hand. Mace and Qui-Gon followed him quietly into the Council room and waited as he took his seat in his chair. They both knew better than to offer help when he faltered momentarily.

"A proposition I have for you, Jinn." Yoda set his walking stick down on the chair and stared evenly at Qui-Gon, who stood in the middle of the circular floor. His surprise at such a statement was evident.

"Master Yoda?"

He shifted, his breathing still labored, and made a noise those close to him were quite familiar with. Usually it represented amusement, but one could not always tell. "Reports of Sith activity in the Outer Rim, there is. Of the truth, we are uncertain. The dark side clouds us; misleading it is. Go, I must."

Qui-Gon blinked. "I don't understand."

"How concerns you, this does?"

"Yes."

"There is a padawn under Yoda, Kenobi. He cannot go along," Mace said bluntly, eyes unreadable.

"The boy…" Qui-Gon looked thoughtful, distracted from the constant gaze of both Mace and Yoda. "The prophecy. Kenobi is the other potential subject of the prophecy?"

"Too dangerous, it is," Yoda acknowledged. "The boy is too young. Risk him, I cannot."

"But Anakin—"

"Skywalker is recovering, and even if he were not, the Council would not readily thrust him into battle against the Sith—especially given the ambiguous nature of the prophecy. Both Kenobi and Skywalker _must _stay behind."

"I understand, Master Windu."

"Do you?" Yoda laughed, a strangled little sound. "Think so, I do not. Kenobi's training is not complete. No one to take him in my absence, there is."

A long silence.

"Now I think you understand," Mace said deliberately, lacing his fingers together and bringing them to his face. He peered out from them, piercing and weighing. Qui-Gon nearly shied from such intense scrutiny.

"What can I do? I can't take a padawan at this stage." He spread his hands, a gesture of defense. "I have to track down Xanatos, and there is a possibility I could be injured, or captured—"

"Know this, I do. Dilemma, hmm?"

"I can't take the child, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said softly. "You must understand. I'm sorry."

"Has little to do with danger and much to do with personal objection, I sense this does. No matter." Yoda sighed. "If the boy you do not wish to take, you shall not."

Qui-Gon bowed his head.

"This is most displeasing," Mace began. "There is no one to take over Kenobi's training. We can't just leave the boy to his own devices."

"I may have a suggestion," Qui-Gon said slowly, hesitation written on every part of his face.

"Hear it, we wish to."

"Anakin is a powerful Jedi Knight—"

"Absolutely not. Putting them together would be madness."

"Allow him to speak, you must. An opportunity, I see."

Mace looked at Yoda doubtfully, but let Qui-Gon continue uninterrupted.

"Anakin is a powerful Jedi-Knight. Perhaps you might consider putting Kenobi under him, even if it's temporarily. I know this is not ideal, but in a few days Anakin will be rested enough to begin."

"He has never taken on a padawan learner before."

"We all must… start somewhere," Qui-Gon said, humor quirking his lips almost imperceptibly.

"Both of these children—" Qui-Gon was ever so glad Anakin was not in the room to hear himself be called a child "—may be the subject of a prophecy. Skywalker would most likely see it as competition, and if Kenobi is the true subject, this could sabotage much needed training. I question the logic of putting the two together."

"I promise you, Anakin would never endanger anyone's life like that."

"Not _knowingly_. I believe Skywalker would think he was doing the right thing, but he is unruly, ill-tempered—"

"He is a good man!" Qui-Gon wasn't sure when he'd decided to shift from merely offering a solution to championing Anakin's character by exploding at the Council, but it certainly hadn't been the best of ideas.

"Saying otherwise, we are not. Valid points, Master Windu raises." Mace sat back in his chair, satisfied. "But another solution there is not." Yoda's ears quirked and his mouth thinned into a harder line. "Something within the Force, I sense. Meditate on this, I must."

"Master Yoda, I must ask why only we are here to discuss this."

"Already consulted, the rest of the Council has been."

"It was how we came to ask you; none of the others were free to take on a padawan."

"I see." He didn't. But he was not the same sort of Jedi, the same sort of medium to the Force Yoda and most of the others were. It was out of his hands. "Should I tell Anakin…?"

"When well, he is. In a week I leave."

---

Thanks again to Trey and Catrina for the beta. This is the longest chapter I've written so far on this, isn't it? That's not saying much given my usual chapter lengths in other fandoms, but still, I can't help but feel accomplished.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The medical staff managed to convince Anakin to stay abed for another day and a half. After that, he heaved himself off the mattress and limped as far as Qui-Gon's sitting room, where he dropped into a chair and refused any help in getting comfortable.

"You try spending that much time on your back," he said defensively, when Qui-Gon admonished him for moving before he was well enough. "I think I've got bed sores."

"Surely not." Qui-Gon busied himself with preparing tea for the two of them Gwethh tea. He poured the water with abject concentration, meditating and readying himself for the discussion sure to come. How to broach the subject? The Force didn't provide all the answers, not when it came to this.

"It's not as if I'm heading back to the Outer Rim. I'm having _tea_ with my former master. Hardly taxing."

"You be sure and remember that when the droids have to drag you back to your quarters, Anakin." With perfect steadiness, Qui-Gon carried the tea over to Anakin. He carefully handed over the cup, gently grabbing Anakin's wrist when it started to shake, and refusing to be deterred by the glower he received for his trouble. When it looked as though Anakin could grip the tea properly, he let go and took his own seat.

"Stop being rational, it doesn't suit you." Anakin blew across the steaming drink, watching Qui-Gon from above the cup's rim.

"You're right. I normally leave rationality to Yoda." The tea was bitter, metallic, but soothed the throat and stomach. The aroma was pleasant, too, smelling faintly of spiced berries.

"He's certainly got enough of it for all the Jedi," Anakin muttered. He set his tea down on the table placed between them and gingerly adjusted a pillow propped behind his back.

Qui-Gon took a long drink, unmindful of the scalding heat. "Are you healing well?"

"I'm getting there." As if on cue, Anakin took up his tea and a muscle in his back spasmed, throwing him into painful rigidity. "Maybe—not." His jaw was clenched, upper lip drawn above his teeth into an expression that mimicked wrath.

Qui-Gon was not going to wait for an invitation. One hand on Anakin's lower back and the other on his bicep helped him rise to his feet. "You must lie down."

"I'll be—_fine_, Qui-Gon." It was evident how much weight Anakin had lost on Bandomeer and during his bed rest. He felt flimsy beneath Qui-Gon's firm hold, hindered by more than limping and shuddering, painful breaths. Qui-Gon hadn't seen him so thin since the early days of becoming a padawan.

The two of them navigated a tricky shuffle to the couch; the walk was short, ridiculously so, and yet it seemed to take ages. They both had to stoop so Anakin could rest on the couch, Qui-Gon doing his best to bear the brunt of the effort, but by the time Anakin was properly situated he looked ready to pass out, eyes glassy from pain.

"There's no escaping it, Anakin," Qui-Gon murmured, seating himself by Anakin's feet at the edge of the couch. "You must stay in bed."

He nodded miserably, covering his eyes with his hand. "I hate being useless."

"It won't last forever."

"No. You're right. It can't." He dropped his hand from his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling. "You know, if I hadn't have gone, or if I hadn't allowed myself to be found out, this never would have happened—"

"You could have _died_, Anakin. Now is not the time to dwell on what might have been. Concentrate on getting better and what you have learned." Qui-Gon carefully ignored the nagging regret ticking away in his own mind; he would never forgive himself for sending Anakin on that mission. It was _his_ responsibility. He should be the one recovering from defeat.

"That I'm not infallible, you mean."

"What?" Qui-Gon turned his full attention back to Anakin.

Anakin smiled grimly. "I'm not infallible. You know what Master Yoda says..."

"What does he say?"

"'A way of putting you into your place, the Force has.' I suppose I've learned my lesson now." His voice shifted to a mutter, but Qui-Gon detected little genuine bitterness from Anakin. "Granted, judgment was something I should have learned as a padawan. It's embarrassing, really."

"Embarrassing? Anakin, we're going to capture him, and we would not have been able to do that without your help—"

"I know, Qui-Gon." Anakin sighed, flinching when his ribs protested. "But my job was to capture him, and all I came back with was a vast knowledge of Ionite mines and a few broken ribs."

"Don't joke."

"I'm not joking. I'm in pain; there's a difference."

"Perhaps we should put this subject on hold until you're feeling better."

"Probably. I have a feeling I'll be driven mad with boredom by then, though."

He turned to better face Anakin, who stared up at him expectantly. "There was something I meant to discuss with you. If you're feeling up to it, that is."

"This sounds like Jedi business." Anakin's demeanor immediately changed; his eyes seemed more alert, his focus on the surroundings more acute. The very way he used the Force shifted from passive to assertive. It was as if Qui-Gon were watching a man become something entirely different in an instant.

"It is. Important Jedi business."

"Such as?" Anakin craned his neck in an effort to fully meet Qui-Gon's gaze.

"Yoda is leaving for the Outer Rim in a few days. He cannot take his padawan with him." Bluntness was the best path to take with Anakin Skywalker. He sensed most deception or hesitancy, and it aggravated him like nothing else. Qui-Gon learned by experience that keeping him in the dark was nearly impossible.

"His padawan is…" Anakin took a moment to think. "Kenobi, right?"

"Yes. I'm sure you know who he is."

"Of course," he said. "Get to the point."

"Anakin," he began regretfully. "The Council—"

"I'm not sure I like where this is going, Qui-Gon." He visibly shied away, suspicion radiating from him in almost tangible waves.

"I don't blame you, but at this point no one can be concerned with preferences."

"A clever way of saying I have no choice. How like the Council."

"Your reaction is most unlike a Jedi," Qui-Gon reprimanded him. "You can't blame the Jedi Council for every assignment you find unpleasant, Anakin. We've been over this."

"I'm sorry. I just don't understand why I am assigned this."

"Are you certain you fully understand what is being asked of you?"

"What, that I'm supposed to take him on as my padawan?"

"There's more to it than that, Anakin. You've never even been considered to teach a Padawan Learner. The fact the Council is entrusting this to you is remarkable."

"Don't kid yourself—there wasn't anyone else to do it. Anyone who would agree to, rather. And everyone knows I'd be a fool to refuse such a big assignment, it would put me in worse standing with the Council."

"I don't even think that came into consideration, Anakin. There was no one else free to take Kenobi."

"_You're_ free," Anakin argued. "You haven't had a padawan since I became a Knight."

"A whole two years ago," Qui-Gon said wryly. "I'm in no state to take another apprentice, you know that. It's too dangerous. You're the best choice."

Anakin cursed softly and looked away. "It never occurred to anyone that my teaching Kenobi would potentially work against the prophecy?"

"The worst that could happen is he ends up fighting like you, Anakin. I doubt it's possible to… fundamentally change his nature, if that's what you're worrying about."

"I still don't understand why it has to be me."

"You don't have to understand."

"I just have to… do my duty." The end trailed off into a near whisper.

"You always do."

---

This chapter seemed like it would never end. I'm so used to writing such short, concise sections, and this one droned on and on. The word count is still pitifully small, but content is starting to speed up. I feel strange using dialog for exposition, but it _is_ how Qui-Gon and Anakin discover what they're to do. Anyway, Lucas is the bloody king of utterly unsubtle dialog. No worries.

Much thanks, as always, to Trey and Catrina for the beta services. They clean my fic up and make it readable.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

If Obi-Wan Kenobi was distressed by the news of his Master's imminent departure, he did not show it. Most padawans in his situation would have protested the change, at the very least asked the Council to reconsider their decision. Kenobi, though, stood silently and nodded when asked if he understood what this meant for his training.

"Difficult this choice was," Yoda said solemnly. His mood was more somber than ever, and Qui-Gon wondered if Yoda was attached to the boy. From the outside they did not seem particularly close, but the bonds involved in teaching a padawan were strong and only matured over time. One such as Master Yoda was not immune to the weight of them. "Easy to reach, a solution was not."

It was an understatement. Qui-Gon was nearly convinced Anakin would refuse his assignment even knowing it would bring the censure of the Council. Qui-Gon did regret, in hindsight, the multitude of times when he protested a decision or questioned a task given by the Council while in front of Anakin. In the end Anakin did do his duty, and that was all that mattered.

"When I return, I know not. Necessary it is for a new master to take over your training."

Kenobi's eyes quickly fell on Qui-Gon. The meaning of the gesture was not missed; no doubt the child assumed Qui-Gon's presence at the meeting meant he was the one to take over. In reality Qui-Gon was attending because Anakin could not; his health still did not permit him to leave his rooms. He was supposed to act on behalf of Anakin and report back any news.

"I apologize for his absence, but Skywalker is still a bit under the weather," Qui-Gon explained, figuring they should get a move on things if he wanted to eat anytime soon.

Kenobi's brow furrowed in confusion. "I do not understand?" It was the first time he had spoken. His voice was quiet and lilting, but also deep with the evidence of puberty. He was well-spoken, but Qui-Gon was unsurprised

"I am here in place of him. He expresses his regrets that he could not meet you today."

"Your new master, he is," Yoda said. Something about the way in which he spoke, or perhaps the way he leaned forward to catch Kenobi's gaze, seemed pleased.

"I see." He clearly did not. If anything, he looked more confused than before.

To have the Hero With No Fear as his new master was just the beginning for Kenobi. Anakin had no training experience. He was constantly sent on the most dangerous missions to achieve the most significant outcomes. He was also Kenobi's reluctant rival, if you looked at it in that light. Kenobi was smart to puzzle at the choice. They were not about to tell him, however, that Anakin was only being assigned because there was no one else.

"When he is well, he will seek you out and begin your training." At the look of worry on Kenobi's face, Qui-Gon hastened to add, "It shouldn't be long. He is recovering quite nicely." Anakin was impatient more than he was actually recovered. Yet another thing they could not say.

"Gone, I will be, before Skywalker completely heals. Ill-timed my leaving is. Be helped it cannot."

"I am certain I can take care until Master Skywalker is ready for me."

"You will have to," Qui-Gon said. "But I'm sure you'll be fine."

---

"Yoda left an hour ago," Qui-Gon said, leaning against Anakin's bedroom doorframe.

Anakin was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched painfully over his dinner tray. "I thought he didn't leave for another two days?"

"Anakin, please refrain from eating and speaking at the same time, it's disgusting."

His chiding didn't take; Anakin only looked up from his plate and grinned broadly. "You're imagining things," he said, swallowing quickly. "Have you eaten?"

"No. I was planning to after I left the Council, but I ended up here instead."

"Pull up a chair and help me finish this gruel." He pushed a fork towards the other side of the tray.

"What an enticing offer. I'm hungry enough to take you up on it." Qui-Gon stood from his bent stance against the door and joined Anakin after dragging his usual seat over. "Oh, this _is_ gruel," he laughed, eyeing a minced meat of some kind. It was coated in a thick, dark sauce.

"There's some acid-beet left, I think. I've mostly demolished the dust-corn bread and pear fruit." As if to emphasize, Anakin cut a huge slice of pear, stabbed it with his fork, swallowed it with little chewing, and washed it down with a particularly nasty protein drink served to help his energy and strength. He shuddered at his mouthful but forged on, finishing off the pear.

"Maybe I'll wait." Qui-Gon picked at the acid-beet, not daring to eat it; it didn't look all that appetizing, especially when plated next to the mystery meat.

"Fair enough." Anakin set down his fork and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke. "You're supposed to tell me about the meeting."

"First you have to tell me how you're doing."

Their routine—Anakin demanded news, and Qui-Gon wouldn't indulge him until he heard what the medical staff was saying, or what small task Anakin had painfully accomplished that day.

"I did some mild stretching, and I managed to evade the sponge-bath by standing up long enough to use the 'fresher. Of course, all of it was so _taxing_—" he glowered down at his plate "—I ended up taking a two hour nap."

"That's not so bad."

"I wanted to watch the HoloNet, though! There was a report on—"

"I meant what you did today. You made some progress."

"Not much," Anakin glumly refuted. "Not nearly enough."

"You know what they said. You'll be bedridden for another week or so, and then you'll have the conditioning exercises for a month. This will pass, Anakin, as all things do." Gently, he laid his hand over Anakin's. While Anakin did not pull away, his reaction was less than warm.

"_Don't _get philosophical with me, Qui-Gon. There's only so much of that I can take. I know I'll recover, but in the meantime I have to lie here, in pain and idle. Do you have any idea what that can do to a person?" In contrast to the strength of the words, Anakin's voice was quiet, meek. His head was bowed, his hands shaking. Hard to say whether it was from the pain or the indignity. Since being taken from slavery on Tatootine, Anakin very much hated helplessness and the loss of control.

"You've already made much progress. When I arrived, you could never have sat up like this for five minutes, let alone stood to use the 'fresher. Then you foolishly walked to my quarters, setting your recovery back by at least a week—"

Anakin had looked up when Qui-Gon started to reprimand him, eyes guilty and worn with fatigue. "I know. I know already. I'm not going to do it again, not until I've been cleared. There's no need to remind me." _I'm an adult_ remained unspoken, though Qui-Gon sensed it was within Anakin's mind. He was an adult and a Jedi Knight, perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Some things were simply learned (or unlearned) with age. Qui-Gon would have to let go of the perpetual need to instruct, and allow Anakin to live and learn his own lessons.

Reconciling years of having Anakin as his padawan against the reality of a grown Jedi Knight was difficult. They had not seen each other much since Anakin's ceremony, and Qui-Gon knew their distance hadn't helped. He was late in starting to learn the new dynamics of their bond.

"I should let you rest." Qui-Gon sighed heavily, finally withdrawing his hand from atop Anakin's.

"Not before you tell me about the meeting with the Council," Anakin insisted.

"I'm sorry, I forgot. Kenobi did not seem aggrieved by Yoda's leaving, nor by his having to accept a new master indefinitely. You should have no problems there."

"But?"

"But nothing. He is a good student, a good padawan for you to train. I imagine you will work well together."

"He didn't seem 'aggrieved' by learning I'm his new Master?" Anakin sounded doubtful.

"Not particularly. He seemed… perplexed, curious. Not upset."

Anakin snorted. With one hand, he pushed aside the tray of food. Normally he would have used the Force, but his strength was so diminished it was best to save the skill in case he really needed it. "Who can blame him? This isn't exactly the best idea the Council has ever had."

"We all must make decisions that sometimes do not seem favorable, Anakin. Or perhaps we make decisions that hurt us in the end." He thought briefly of sending Anakin to Bandomeer; so rational initially, so perilous in retrospect. "It is part of life."

---

Betas: Catrina and Trey. So much thanks I can't even express it.

Thank you all for waiting during my Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince induced writer's block.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"Much better," Qui-Gon praised, squeezing Anakin's forearm in encouragement.

"The pain is nearly gone," Anakin admitted, obviously relieved, "but I tire so easily."

"And you were convinced you'd say an invalid forever," he admonished lightly. They reached the entryway to Anakin's living area and Qui-Gon stalled, checking Anakin's condition to see if he was fit to keep walking. He seemed fine, or as fine as he possibly could be under the circumstances. His cheeks were flushed and he continued to move at a pace that was painfully far removed from the deft quickness of before Bandomeer, but a quick reach into the Force showed untapped resilience buried beneath Anakin's determination to get well. Qui-Gon was not surprised and even relaxed a little. "You'll be back to full health in no time."

"That's what I'm told," he said, directing a turn towards the couch.

Though this particular walk was short, Anakin had been working with healers for nearly a half hour; it was remarkable he could walk even this extra distance after such an extensive, trying rehabilitation session.

Anakin withdrew his arm from Qui-Gon's supportive grip and gingerly took a seat on the edge of the couch. He tried to keep his back straight and rod-stiff, which the healers told him was the best position for lasting injuries. Qui-Gon sat next to him, feeling more at ease in Anakin's presence than he had since arriving. It had seemed the damage would never pass, and the hopelessness Anakin emanated wore on both of them, but finally both could see the recovery underway. Regrettably, Anakin's improvement meant that soon Qui-Gon would have to leave; he could not afford to stay much longer, not when his previous trip to Metellos brought such a suspicious lack of leads. He was overdue to return.

"Anakin, we need to talk--"

"About your leaving." Anakin gave a small smile and shrugged at Qui-Gon's startled face. "I can read you like a book," he explained. "When are you going?"

"Soon. Perhaps in the next two days. I wish I could stay longer, but there's so much left to investigate on Metellos, and I've yet to check the archives…"

"I was hoping you would stay until I was well," Anakin frowned, posture slumping from the disappointing news and the effort of trying to keep his back so straight. "It won't be that much longer, I don't understand why there's such a rush."

"You don't need me here," he said, trying to be positive about things. Inwardly he felt the slightest tinge of guilt--after all, it had been so long since he'd spent any real time with Anakin, and to leave before he was fully healed compounded the feeling. "You've got to focus on Kenobi's training."

Anakin grimaced. "Don't remind me. Master Windu insisted we meet as soon as possible, and I'm trying to figure out a way to delay it as much as possible. I'm not ready to train a Padawan yet."

"You're far too negative. Anakin, I have told you time and time again that doubt is not the way of the Jedi."

"No, no, you misunderstand me. I'm still too weak to begin training Kenobi. We should wait." He shook his head. "This is part of the reason I don't see why _you_ can't take him. At least you're well."

"This again?" Qui-Gon suppressed a groan. "How many times are you going to dispute the Council's decision?"

"Until I see the logic in it! You even said you didn't agree with it, Qui-Gon. It's foolishness." Anakin lifted his chin stubbornly, daring him to argue.

"He's your responsibility now," he said, steadfast and completely ignoring Anakin's comments about what he thought. Anakin didn't need the ammunition of being validated, in his eyes, by Qui-Gon's doubt.

"I know that," Anakin snapped. "That's not the--"

"It _is_ the issue," he interrupted, knowing what Anakin was going to say either because the Force aided him or because Anakin was terribly easy to read. "This is a lesson you must learn; it is the will of the Force."

Anakin may have mumbled something like 'the will of the _Council_,' but Qui-Gon certainly did not hear such an impertinent remark.

---

Qui-Gon decided to head over to the sparring room instead of sending a summons to bring Kenobi to them. It took a moment upon entering to recognize him; he stood at the far end of the playing floor, practicing Form II against a padawan two years his senior.

Kensa Rubika, her mouth set in a grim line, struck in erratic, aggressive bursts that consistently hit near the hilt of Kenobi's saber. Kenobi wore a calm expression that betrayed nothing, and parried her without a blink or a second of hesitation. Qui-Gon watched them, comparing their contrary Forms and even the distinct differences of their appearance. Rubika as the older, more experienced padawan did not so much as seem to notice the scrutiny, but Kenobi had only been observed by Yoda, and never without commentary. He glanced over his shoulder when a pause from Rubika permitted it; the nervousness of youth.

"Kenobi."

"Master Jinn," he acknowledged, trying to control his panting. He backed away and deactivated his white training saber—after shaking short dark hair out of her eyes, Rubika did the same and left the mat. Qui-Gon made way as she brushed past him to the door. "Thank you, Kensa," Kenobi called after her.

"Perhaps you should visit the refresher before we continue," Qui-Gon supposed, eyeing Kenobi's flushed face and sweat-dampened torso.

"I'm sorry?"

"Come with me."

Explaining might have been the best option, but Kenobi followed without question or complaint. The pair passed few people on the trip to Kenobi's quarters, which were mostly empty now that Yoda had left and Kenobi was set to move. "I will wait for you," he explained, going to stand near a window. He looked out at Coruscant's bustling daytime. "Please try and hurry, Master Skywalker won't like to wait."

He started at the mention of Anakin, pieces falling into place, and politely nodded before moving on to the 'fresher. The muffled sounds of Kenobi disrobing followed, then the sonic shower started up.

Qui-Gon took the time to explore what was left unpacked of Kenobi's things. A Jedi might not have had possessions, but Padawans tended to accumulate items; books for study, recorded HoloNet reports, the occasional news publication. Transient items that were always discarded by Knighthood, which was why the Jedi took no pains to censure them. It was not as if Kenobi owned a toy blaster, or whatever it was most young men took to coveting; only a few rather impersonal mementoes to help him feel comfortable living in such an unadorned environment. As expected, all Kenobi would be bringing--aside from his clothing and equipment--was a book and a crystal used to encourage meditation. Acceptable. Not things he would mourn if lost or destroyed.

Per his instructions, Kenobi was quick to use the 'fresher and redress. He walked out, boots unlaced and fiddling with his damp padawan braid, and saw Qui-Gon still standing by the window. There was no evidence of his having examined the room, but Qui-Gon would not have been surprised if Kenobi had sensed the assessment. "I hope I did not take too long," he muttered, not meeting Qui-Gon's eyes. Most of the time Kenobi exuded a stillness found admirable in Jedi, but every so often Qui-Gon had the distinct impression that Kenobi was very shy and trying to hide it.

"Not long at all. Are you nearly ready?" Regardless of Kenobi's response, he walked over, clearly waiting to leave.

"Yes. I just need to tie my boots."

When he bent to one knee, Qui-Gon used the quick moment to gauge the faint pulses of the Force he could discern. They were easier to read and probe now that Kenobi was not looking at him. Younglings and padawans seemed to only sensed Force-scrutiny if they saw you doing it, or if you warned them, or in the unlikely event you were indelicate. Anakin was so far the only one who had cottoned on.

That was, until Kenobi looked up suddenly when Qui-Gon started to interpret the direction of his thoughts. Qui-Gon was so startled he nearly stepped back; the same sort of rushing discovery he'd had with Anakin. The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, obviously aware of what had transpired.

"I'm ready," Kenobi finally murmured, standing and breaking eye contact.

---

Yet another thanks to Catrina and Trey.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

They did not speak—there was no reason to, and discomfort from the awkward exchange in Kenobi's quarters lingered. The boy gave him a few careful glances, perhaps on the verge of speaking, but he stayed silent. Probing would have been useless; Kenobi would immediately notice. Qui-Gon did not think he would appreciate a second invasion of his thoughts.

The door opened with a metallic swish. Qui-Gon walked inside, Kenobi at his heels. Anakin stood looking out the window, hands clasped at his back. He was dressed in full robes, black cloth and tooled leather in abundance, his light saber clipped to his belt, slung against his outer thigh. Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow at the intimidating regalia. Anakin just couldn't do things halfway. "Anakin?"

When he turned, his face was impassive. "Qui-Gon." He looked past Qui-Gon and down a few feet, nodding to Kenobi. "You must be Obi-Wan." The casualness of his words surprised both Qui-Gon and Kenobi, although Anakin's tone did not help put Kenobi at ease. Still, the effort was noted.

"Master Skywalker." Kenobi bowed respectfully.

"Why don't we sit down?" Qui-Gon suggested, directing Kenobi toward the couch. Anakin shot him an intense look, nigh unreadable, but followed his lead.

Kenobi sat with his hands tucked neatly on his lap, waiting for either of the two adults in the room to speak first. He so clearly bowed to his superiors, at once acknowledging his role as a Padawan Learner and obeying Yoda's—and indeed the Jedi's teachings—to observe, to know, to gauge with the Force and be but a silent onlooker. There was too much intelligence in Kenobi's gaze for Qui-Gon to mistake his silence for fear or hesitation. Or even awe; Anakin did tend to inspire far too much of that, especially in the last few months.

Anakin finally took his own seat, staring at Kenobi almost as unflinchingly as Kenobi stared back at him. There was something in Anakin's manner, though, something that wasn't to be found in Kenobi's. It was unreadable, something private, and Qui-Gon's better instincts told him not to interrupt. Anakin had to be the one to speak first, to take and establish control. Qui-Gon was officially out of place here—he was no one's master, and he had no apprentice. Perhaps this was what Qui-Gon had needed to truly realize from the moment Anakin passed his trials. He'd failed; he knew that now, he'd failed by never letting himself acknowledge why he so missed Anakin by his side, missed the familiarity of the faded training bond. Now he knew, watching Anakin face his Padawan, that Anakin was grown up.

Qui-Gon sat back. He was but a silent onlooker. A fly on the wall.

"How are your Forms?" Anakin asked.

Kenobi pursed his lips in careful thought. "I am well-trained in Shii-Cho—"

Anakin waved his gloved cybernetic hand dismissively. "As is every other youngling and Padawan in the Temple. Which do you prefer? If I'm going to train you, I need to know my… my Padawan's strengths."

Kenobi tried again. "Ataro."

Qui-Gon was impressed. Many Padawans dove headfirst into Ataro, admiring its flashy, Force-guided movements, but when even if they learned its flips and sprints, they could not dedicate themselves to controlling the offensive anger it evoked. For Kenobi to continue with Ataro under Yoda for as long as he had, for him to favor it, was surprising, not to mention indicative of what Qui-Gon already suspected: Kenobi was fit for significance. But it was foolish of him to have even entertained the notion of Kenobi being the same as the others his age. It was bias, he now recognized, that kept him from seeing Kenobi's true potential.

This was the other child of the prophecy, the other side of the card. He had just as much claim to the title of Chosen One as Anakin. Qui-Gon's fondness for his former Padawan overrode his faith in Yoda, in the prophecy, in Kenobi himself.

It was as if the Force had illuminated the picture before him; Anakin, sitting stiffly, trying to block his physical pain and sense Kenobi—Obi-Wan—who met him with the ingrained respect and contemplation of a pupil.

Qui-Gon wondered if either saw it as clearly as he did. Doubtful. They were too wrapped up in the past. Obi-Wan expected The Hero With No Fear, and Anakin expected a rival, but each unknowingly behaved as befit them. It was quite ironic to watch.

"Master Jinn is very proficient at Ataro," Anakin stated. "It's never been my Form of choice, despite how many countless hours he had me running up walls and jumping Sai's over his head."

"Anakin seems to think it is wasted Force energy," Qui-Gon put in softly, knowing it was just the push needed.

"Do you, Master?"

Anakin visibly started. His eyes widened and he stared at Obi-Wan as if he'd suddenly revealed himself to be a shape-changer. Qui-Gon felt such bemusement, remembering the first time Kshar called him 'Master' as a Padawan, and to compare that shock with the ease he felt around Anakin, or in the beginning with Xanatos… Soon Anakin would answer to Master as easily as he would his own name. "Yes." Anakin recovered quickly. "Using the Force to propel acrobatics is usually pointless; you could be saving up all of your energy for precise attacks."

"He prefers Djem So," Qui-Gon supplied, feeling as though he was mapping out a course for Anakin and Obi-Wan's conversation to follow.

"I know, I see it on the HoloNet all the time. Everyone does. Shien is about offense…" Obi-Wan started tentatively. "I've just used defensive Ataro maneuvers in the training rooms." He seemed to shrug off his training, relegating it to worthless because he'd never faced a real enemy.

"You don't like offensive tactics?"

"I—Master Yoda said my strengths lie in my agility. When he discovered I was all right in Ataro, we focused on that." He answered the question and yet did not. Curious. There was something of a politician in Obi-Wan, something well-suited to negotiations and diplomacy.

The possibilities made Qui-Gon regret having to leave so soon.

---

Thanks to Catrina and Trey for the beta. For the record, Kshar is the name I've delineated for Qui-Gon's first Padawan Learner. We know about Xanatos and Obi-Wan, but there is no by-name mention of his first in the EU.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

When Anakin finally managed to make his way up to the level of daily laps and stretches, the healers re-evaluated him. They ultimately agreed to let Anakin have some time in a Bacta tank—he'd been nagging the droids for weeks, but they found unexplainable anomalies in his medical reports and denied him access. The dumbfounded healers previously concocted a theory about the mass amount of spinal damage and the long-term muscle deterioration, but Anakin had seen worse treated by Bacta in the field. It seemed like nothing involving him would ever be typical, not even medical treatment.

After a few hours of floating in half-consciousness, they lifted him out and sent him on his way. He felt slightly shaky from the sudden and complete lack of pain; not a muscle ached, not a bone creaked. There was a slight pang of regret that Qui-Gon had departed earlier and was unable to see Anakin back to his usual self. Anakin ignored the disappointment and retired to his chambers. He started to do some tentative stretching in order to assess how much, if any, muscle mass and strength he'd lost during his long recuperation. His calves protested the more intensive poses, but it did not seem as though Anakin had lost much of his former physique.

Now that he was free of pain, Anakin felt it was time to meditate. The clarity and unhindered focus felt like a much-needed swallow after being parched for ages. The Force centered in him as if it had never been lost in a sea of Anakin's despair. He breathed steadily, slowly, legs crossed and eyes closed. He needed answers and he needed to reclaim his viewpoint on the Force, on the Jedi way.

---

There was no telling how long Anakin stayed that way, lost in the pulsing guidance of the Force. By the time he blinked himself back into the present, he felt calm, with purpose, and distinctly hungry. Glancing at the sun, Anakin stood up and headed for the dining hall, intent on finding his Padawan and establishing the beginnings of their long journey in a positive, communal atmosphere.

Obi-Wan sat with some other Padawans near his age, talking animatedly. Anakin probed gently and picked up something about hyperdrives. At the faint brush of an intruding mind, Obi-Wan looked up directly at Anakin, who hid his surprise at being discovered and nodded in greeting. The other Padawans immediately went silent at his arrival, staring up at him in a sort of suspended awe. He ignored it and looked down at Obi-Wan.

"Would you care to dine with me?" He decided not to casually use Obi-Wan's name, or some forced soubriquet like 'my apprentice.' Neither of them seemed ready for the intimacy, or so Anakin felt.

"Yes, Master. Bruck, Kensa, Roth, will you excuse me?" Obi-Wan was already standing up to leave, though he waited politely for acquiescence. All three of them shook their heads and Obi-Wan turned away from the table, waiting to follow Anakin's lead.

"Shall we sit with Master Windu at his table?"

Obi-Wan glanced at the table where Mace Windu and his companions sat, eating and discussing various planets and their brewing political unrest. Normally it would be a stark introduction to such an environment (Anakin's first experience eating with Qui-Gon had been just as intense, though he was ultimately glad for Qui-Gon's initiative). However, Obi-Wan was formerly Yoda's Padawan, and no doubt he was used to eating with his superiors. "Yes, Master, of course."

The pair of them made their way to Mace's table, taking seats at the right of him. The Knights seated greeted Anakin warmly, a few even expressing congratulations at his full recovery. Obi-Wan waited for Anakin to serve himself and then took small portions, having already eaten a little with his peers. Anakin took note of what foods he preferred and offered a word or two of conversation; Obi-Wan did not seem entirely comfortable, so Anakin let it rest. He turned his attention to Mace and the ongoing dialog over the planet Aragau's alliances.

"Aragau should be left to its own devices until we are shown a reason to act," Mace continued. "At present, they are not a threat."

By now Anakin felt he had the gist of the conversation and felt it worthwhile to add his own opinion. "But it's the home of a significant bank. It'd be worth our time to investigate, at least."

Mace waved him off. "Jedi are meant to keep the peace, not monitor finances."

"Wouldn't it be prudent to send people down there and give some incentives to stay neutral, though? Losing the bank would be a huge liability to the Republic."

"You say that as though they aren't already a liability, young Skywalker."

Anakin's brow furrowed, recalling Mace's earlier statement about leaving them alone until given a reason not to. "But I thought—"

"One of the advantages of living as long as I have is learning when to pick your battles," Mace said somewhat wearily. "This is one we cannot win, even if we wanted to. The bank is neutral but the planet is under the control of the Separatists. Interference would be considered an act of further war."

Slightly embarrassed over the sudden lecture, Anakin turned back to his plate.

---

After dinner, Anakin considered the rest of the evening. Obi-Wan had no classes that day. Mostly he only had lightsaber sessions or research in the archives scheduled, as Anakin was now in charge of Obi-Wan's training. He had yet to see his Padawan's skills with the weapon, and he figured now was as good of a time as any.

"Come with me to the practice room," Anakin instructed.

Obi-Wan followed without question, probably having already anticipated such a test. Anakin heard a rustle of fabric and recognized it as Obi-Wan shedding his cloak; they were cumbersome during any type of battle, especially when one fought in Form IV. Obi-Wan's garb was vastly different than Anakin's, who even as a Padawan chose to wear dark browns and tans instead of the traditional white linen. He still preferred a less obviously Jedi style—blacks, leather, earth tones, heavier boots than standard issue.

The room was empty. Anakin adjusted the lights to his satisfaction and stood against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "Warm up, please."

---

Thanks to Catrina and Trey for the beta, as always. Hey, did anyone notice how I finally addressed the Bacta issue? I'd been planning to explain it, oh, I don't know, in the first few chapters, but it continually escaped me. Anyway. I'm kind of freaking out because of Hurricane Rita, as I know someone caught in her path. My thoughts with everyone in a similar situation.


End file.
